Things Change
by I-Walk-in-Eternity
Summary: A dream changes Aladdin's view of a certain sorcerer... [Aladdin x Mozenrath slash] Rating may go up in later chapters. [IN PROCESS OF TOTAL REWRITE]
1. Chapter 1

Hello, my lovely readers!

Alright, upon rereading this story, I promptly attempted to throw myself off the nearest building of considerable height. However, after much internal toil, I have decided to attempt to salvage it. This is the result, I do hope you're pleased.

(Disclaimer: Aladdin © Disney)

_Aladdin walked through the black labyrinthine halls as if through a heavy fog. He had no memory of arriving at this place, Mozenrath's citadel. Nor indeed did he harbor fear, although he understood quite well that his enemy had many places to hide, and that he was at an extreme disadvantage. _

_But he did not question it. Aladdin strode forward with purpose; a purpose, perhaps, that he was not aware of, but he followed like a dog to a scent, without complaint or question. Deeper and deeper he walked, into the lair of his enemy, knowing somehow that this was not one of the sorcerer's elaborate ploys. He was expected._

_And there he was. Atop a throne of black marble, ebony hair flowing freely to his sides with commanding grace. Mozenrath's alabaster countenance denoted not a hint of surprise, as if he had been waiting. _

_Without a word the sorcerer drifted down to Aladdin's level. The boy's eyes rested momentarily on the powerful gauntlet encasing his enemy's right hand, but he did not think to run. _

_Mozenrath's cloak quickly enveloped them both, blown softly by a breeze Aladdin did not feel. Obsidian curls danced around Aladdin's face, and without thinking he ran one dark hand through the soft hair. With speed akin to a striking cobra, Mozenrath's long, pale fingers twisted around Aladdin's wrist. In his eyes, not anger, but hunger. And Aladdin found himself leaning closer, closer, until their lips met…_

Aladdin jolted up in bed, cold sweat clinging to his features. He glanced about frantically, desperate to release himself from the throes of that… Dream?

No, surely not, he chastised himself. Not a dream, a nightmare. Definitely a nightmare.

Right?

Aladdin's internal struggle came to a halt when Jasmine's sleeping form stirred beside him. He wrapped his arms around the princess, burying his face in her hair. Black as ebony… Just like…

Aladdin jerked back again, shaking his head violently. Turning away from Jasmine, he stared out the window and tried to sleep, to force the… Nightmare… From his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

A hundred leagues from the land of Agrabah, where the sand swirled black as ash and a great foreboding fortress loomed ominously overlooking its kingdom, the sorcerer Mozenrath jolted awake, gasping. His eyes, always cold and passionless, now reflected an emotion not unlike fear in their deep, inky depths. Mozenrath relaxed, slightly, upon recognizing his surroundings. A cool breeze blew through the open balcony door, giving sheer azure drapes the strange illusion of life. Moonlight spilled onto his bed, and Mozenrath fell back, head in hands. Dark blue silk pooled around his lithe form like liquid midnight, contrasting starkly with the pure alabaster of his skin. Curls of ebony clung to his sweat-soaked torso as he struggled to regain composure, to free himself from the clutches of that dream.

_Dream._ A chill ran down Mozenrath's spine. Memories stirred of a childhood of terror, of moments better left forgotten. The sorcerer sighed, standing to cover his nude body with a silk robe.

Mozenrath hated dreams. Hated being at the mercy of another, even when that other was his own subconscious. In fact, it had been so long since he had dreamed, he had no longer thought he could. Thought it had been weeded out with the rest of his weaknesses, perhaps. Mozenrath sneered ruefully.

"You hear that Old Man? You didn't do your fucking job right." He shouted venomously, his own voice echoing through the empty chamber. Mozenrath chuckled, shaking his head as he strode onto the balcony.

It was a gorgeous night. Stars peppered every corner of the sky, and the full moon shone with all its famed majesty. Mozenrath leant against the railing. Night was never a good time for the sorcerer. The horrors it held for him were too enveloping, the scars too deep to heal, in both the literal and figurative sense. Mozenrath let one side of the robe slide down his back, revealing a gnarled criss-cross down his spine. He gripped the rail in front of him until his knuckles were white, scowling at the mementos of his darkest time. A time when Disdain had ruled his existence, tormenting his dreams, night after night. When the man would drive him to breaking physically, then deny him the blessed reprieve of unconsciousness.

_I guess that's why I took such vengeance on him._ Mozenrath smirked; A sinister and hollow smile. The mask he'd become so very accustomed to. The mask that meant safety, that kept him from getting hurt- though still, only a mask.

But Mozenrath could not even find solace in that hatred now, that wonderful rage that had consoled him so many times before. Now his mind was bent on something new.

_That damned dream… _Mozenrath sighed, running a hand through his hair. It had been so long since Mozenrath's carnal instincts had gotten the better of him- his emotions were usually under strict lock and key.

_The better to keep from getting hurt._ A mocking voice ran through his head. But it was true- Emotions were a liability. That was why he'd had to destroy Disdain so utterly, because no matter how much he hated the man, some twisted part still loved him as a mentor, a companion. That was why he ruled his kingdom alone, his subjects destroyed and grotesquely shaped into an army. He was a cold and wrathful demon; cunning, calculating, uncaring.

_So why now?_ He asked himself, slamming a fist down onto the railing. _Why do I suddenly want to feel again?_

Mozenrath wracked his brain, unable to come up with a logical answer, only more questions. Why was a subconscious encounter with this, this _Street Rat_ bothering him so? How had that _Brat_ awakened feelings he had fought so hard to force into dormancy? Mozenrath shook his head and dropped it to his hands. For the first time in a very, very long time, the great sorcerer Mozenrath was helpless at the hands of his emotions.


End file.
